Republic of China era: A hundred-year-old still practicing martial arts? Is that right?

Just as Si Dezhao's fingertips touched the doorknob, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes embedded in the crack of the door out of the corner of his eye.

The cold light emanating from those murky eyes pierced straight to his bones, causing Si Dezhao to shudder and his hair to stand on end.

Just as Si Dezhao was about to speak, a withered hand suddenly reached through the crack in the door.

The withered hand, heavy as an iron clamp, gripped his face tightly, forcibly silencing all his voice.

Lin Ji lowered his waist slightly and twisted his wrist gently, pushing the hundred-odd-pound Si Dezhao into the room like a chick and slamming him against the wall.

When Si Dezhao saw who it was, he first glared angrily, but the next moment his eyes surged with contempt.

This half-dead old man, whom you could easily get to know, actually went to his door to die!

His anger surged, and he struggled, kicking his legs and making a "hoarse" sound in his throat as he pushed Lin Ji.

However, to Si Dezhao's despair, the half-dead old man in front of him had withered hands like iron clamps that remained motionless no matter how much he struggled.

Lin Ji raised his other hand and placed it on the top of his head, his fingertips slightly curling, pinning his head to the wall. His voice was low and devoid of any warmth:

"Whose life did you just say you wanted to take?"

Si Dezhao's pupils suddenly contracted, and all the color drained from his face.

He shook his head desperately, his eyes exploding with fear, panic, and disbelief.

He's the incredibly wealthy and powerful Master Si! How could he possibly die at the hands of this half-dead old man?

He was unwilling to accept defeat! He didn't want to die!

Lin Ji's eyes were cold as he looked at Si Dezhao's face, which was filled with resentment, and his voice was low:

"The next generation should do less heartless things."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Ji twisted his wrist.

"Snap!"

The sound of bones cracking within Si Dezhao's muscles echoed in the silent room.

With his hands covering his neck, his body, which had been pressed against the wall, slowly slumped to one side, his head tilted at an eerie angle, his eyes wide open, filled with unbelievable fear.

Lin Ji released his grip, his face expressionless, and let Si Dezhao's corpse collapse to the ground.

These scum who poison the nation by selling opium deserve to die!

Lin Ji squatted down and searched Si Dezhao's body, but couldn't find a single silver dollar.

Standing up, Lin Ji walked to his desk and opened each of the drawers with brass handles. Inside, dozens of silver dollars were scattered, reflecting the dim light of the oil lamp.

Lin Ji glanced at Si Dezhao's corpse and whispered:

"How could a profiteering opium dealer who lives off the suffering of others entrust his hard-earned money to someone else?"

Looking around again, Lin Ji's gaze fell on the mahogany bookshelf against the wall.

The bookshelf was filled with brand-new thread-bound books, clearly just for show, except for the book at the very back of the shelf, which had slightly rough edges on the side.

Lin Ji stepped forward and reached out to pull out the thread-bound book with the Analects written on the side.

After the thread-bound book was removed, a raised area could be vaguely seen in its original location under the dim light.

Lin Ji raised an eyebrow and pressed his hand on the protrusion on the inside of the bookshelf.

"Crack".

A soft sound.

On the wall next to the bookshelf, a painting was flipped up, revealing a hidden compartment.

The hidden compartment was lined with red silk.

Five rolls of silver dollars, neatly wrapped in red paper, were stacked on top.

Below the ocean coin were several neatly folded banknotes.

Lin Ji reached out and picked up the silver notes, counting them. There were three silver notes in total, each printed with the words "One Thousand Dollars".

Lin Ji's eyes lit up!

A full three thousand silver dollars.

These days, a typical family can easily afford to spend a dozen or so dollars a year.

Lin Ji spent his entire life pulling shadow puppets, and all the money he earned amounted to only a few hundred taels of silver. In the end, he only managed to save five silver dollars for his coffin.

"As expected! Murder and arson bring wealth!" Lin Ji took out the silver dollar wrapped in red paper, weighed it in his hand, and couldn't help but sigh.

Just as he was about to close the hidden compartment, Lin Ji noticed that there seemed to be something pressed under the red silk inside.

Reaching out to unfold the red silk, a sheet of yellowed Xuan paper appeared underneath.

Lin Ji reached out and took it, unfolded it, and saw that the few lines of small characters on it had faded slightly, but were still legible.

"Blood-nourishing decoction prescription: Angelica sinensis 3 qian, Astragalus membranaceus 5 qian, deer antler 2 qian..."

Lin Ji's breath hitched.

Blood-nourishing soup!

This is a treasure for martial artists to cultivate their qi and blood!

This blood-nourishing soup recipe would be hard to find even on the black market; it could fetch at least several hundred silver dollars.

"This old bastard, I never expected him to have such a good thing!" Lin Ji carefully folded the prescription and hid it close to his body in his bosom.

After scanning the room's furnishings again, Lin Ji concluded that there must be even more money inside.

But Lin Ji didn't start searching anymore. He knew the principle of not biting off more than he could chew, and leaving any traces could easily lead to trouble.

Since stepping into the world of skin refining.

Lin Ji's appetite increased several times over. Even if he ate meat at every meal, he would faint from hunger after less than half an hour of training.

Lin Ji had long understood that his hundred-year-old body was too depleted of vital energy and blood, and could not keep up with the terrifying consumption of martial bones.

Who would have thought that the vital energy and blood that had been limited by this body's age would be completely resolved in one day? Now, everything is great, we have money and medicine! The bones can finally function to their full potential!

With three thousand taels on hand, it's enough to buy herbs to brew medicine to replenish qi and blood.

Beneath the red silk was a tortoise-shell pistol, which Lin Ji also took.

Lin Ji walked back to his desk and opened the account book under the oil lamp.

Amidst the normal business transactions, there were several instances of opium trafficking.

"This harmful thing!"

After much deliberation, Lin Ji closed the account book and tucked it into his pocket.

After quickly cleaning up the traces at the scene, Lin Ji took out a palm-sized black token from his pocket, on which was engraved a ferocious dragon with bared fangs and claws.

The token was found by Lin Ji from the two thugs of the Sea Dragon Gang that day. Lin Ji guessed that it was most likely the Sea Dragon Gang's token.

He never lost it; I never expected it would come in handy today.

Lin Ji walked to the back window inside the house, pushed it open, and with a light step, flipped out. The moment he landed, the black evil dragon token "inadvertently" slipped out of his sleeve.

"Clatter!"

The token fell into the grass under the windowsill.

The night was as dark as ink, and Lin Ji's figure quickly disappeared into the crisscrossing alleyways.

……

Early the next morning.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

The old steward of the Si family appeared at the door of Si Dezhao's study, carrying a copper basin.

Looking at the dim yellow light still emanating from the room, the old butler clapped his hands in anguish and muttered to himself:

"Master is so old, how can he stay up all night? What if he ruins his health?"

The old butler reached out and knocked on the study door, his voice low but drawn out, "Master, it's time for breakfast."

There was no movement inside the house.

The old butler frowned slightly, then looked around a few more times, raising his voice slightly, "Master?"

The room remained deathly silent.

The old butler's heart skipped a beat; he had a vague sense of foreboding.

He tried reaching out and pushing the door.

The door wasn't locked, and it creaked open.

"Bang!"

The old steward dropped the copper basin he was holding.

Boiling hot water spilled all over the floor.

Inside the room, Si Dezhao's body lay on the ground with his neck crooked, his bulging, wide-open eyes staring at the doorway, meeting the old butler's gaze.

A good ten seconds or so passed.

An old, mournful scream shattered the tranquility of the Si family mansion!

"Murder! The master has been murdered!"